


A song of myself

by Katerunaway



Category: Il buono il brutto il cattivo | The Good The Bad and The Ugly (1966)
Genre: Blondie POV, I talk to the trees, M/M, Song - Freeform, Walt Whitman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katerunaway/pseuds/Katerunaway
Summary: A little music helps sleeping.
Relationships: "Blondie" | The Man with No Name/Tuco Ramirez
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	A song of myself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DanseDan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanseDan/gifts), [FortuneSurfer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortuneSurfer/gifts).



> The idea was planted in my mind by DanseDan and Fortunesurfer inspired me to use the song. Basically not a single thought is mine lol. Follow for more original ideas.

Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best,  
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valvèd voice.  
\- Song of myself, Walt Whitman

They had been travelling all day long aboard the carriage in the desert and the sun had just started to set when they decided to camp. The dark would soon envelope everything and they had to be quick to find a safe spot, somewhere tucked away enough as not to risk being spotted by travellers on the road. Though the people around were more dead than alive, it was wise to never let one’s guard down.  
They agreed that Blondie would keep watch for the first part of the night, so Tuco went to his bedroll and fell asleep soon without much protesting. His back to the fire, orange light over his frame, he was barely moving with each breath. So much different than his daily restless demeanor. 

Blondie was left to the silence of the cold desert night. He rekindled the fire every now and then and paced about around the carriage to keep himself awake. The only sounds that could be heard were his light steps on the ground, Tuco’s heavy breathing and the crackling of the fire.

He was tired and his cigar only a nub by now. He had taken a habit of passing it out to Tuco, now it was not possible to repeat the gesture and it reminded him that he was alone. 

He had almost forgotten how it was, to feel alone. It had been that way for such a long time, he had always thought it was how things should be, the only way to make sure he would survive, guarding his back and killing others when it was least expected to. Always keeping to himself, wandering from one place to another, without being much concerned with what or whom he left behind. There wasn’t much to keep by his side anyway, besides his gun. That was some time ago though. Before meeting this bastard he was partners with. He felt something twisting inside his chest at that thought. 

He decided he wouldn’t dwell on that sensation for the moment. Night time was made for sleeping and he was tired and that made it difficult to think straight.  
He had still some time before shifting with Tuco, who was sound asleep, judging by the soft snoring noise that came from his bedroll.  
Looking for a past time, mainly as a way to keep himself awake, he paced from the carriage to the campfire and absent-mindedly started to hum to himself. An old tune, one he had not sung in a long time surfaced in his mind and words he thought he had forgotten escaped his lips.

“I talk to the trees  
But they don't listen to me  
I talk to the stars  
But they never hear me”

He sang quietly, a little louder than a whisper. Singing had been a habit of his, to keep himself company during long lonely nights. An old habit he had never really lost apparently.  
He poked the ashes with a stick, causing the sparks to catch on a piece of wood and light a new flame.  
He looked at Tuco’s back, his body curled up in the bedroll.  
The sensation of something warm spreading in his chest hit him again, and this time he allowed he let his thoughts wander.  
The sound of the fire crackling quietly accompanied the song, and he fixed his eyes on the flames.

“The breeze hasn't time  
To stop, and hear what I say  
I talk to them all  
In vain  
But suddenly, my words  
Reach someone elses ear  
At someone elses heart  
Strings too”

As he muttered out quietly those words, he became increasingly aware.  
He had always sung the tune without thinking about it too much, but now it hit him - the loneliness and the longing, he could understand them. Only then he realized how heavy the loneliness had weighed on him. He relied on his exceptional ability to mute out the pain and the emotions - anything that could be a distraction from the struggle of survival in that damned desert of a world. He hoped he would never lose it.  
The song was almost over now, the last words no more than a breath out of his lips.

“I tell you my dreams  
And while you're  
Listening to me  
I suddenly see them  
Come true”

He looked across the fire to Tuco’s bedroll and met his gaze. Since when had he been awake? He had kept his voice barely above a whisper but the man somehow had managed to perceive even that hum - 

The attention in Tuco’s eyes didn’t lie, he hadn’t been awake by chance and Blondie wanted to look away but it was too late. He had a feeling that the man could understand what he was thinking about just by looking at him in the eyes.  
Tuco smirked and broke the silence.  
“It’s good to hear music now and then. Helps sleeping.”  
Yes, too bad it helped you being awake instead, Blondie thought. But he felt thankful for the comforting lie. A shield for them both. A shield from what, he barely asked himself. He said nothing and just looked at Tuco getting up, stretching himself and walking up to him. As he came to sit next to him Blondie felt the heat radiating from his body, just out of the bedroll, warm and inviting in the cold of the desert night. 

“My turn now. I’ll sing for you if you want.” he said cheerfully.  
Blondie looked at the fire and rekindled it some more.  
“I prefer you don’t. Just keep quiet”. He smiled mockingly and looked back at him.  
Tuco looked disappointed. He rapidly changed his expression to an aloof one and raised his eyebrows. “You don’t know what you are missing” he said and yawned, adjusting his jacket.

They settled into silence again. Blondie wanted to linger a little more beside him, enjoy a little more of that warmth, but he told himself that he needed to rest and not to think about it. He got up and went to his own bedroll.  
He caught the quickest gaze from his companion across the fire before falling asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> As soon as I finished writing I thought of Walt Whitman. The words can be referred as Blondie to Tuco or viceversa. Also it weirdly fits with canon Blondie’s hearing of Tuco’s gun firing.
> 
> I wanted to make him sing Dead of Night by Orville Peck and who knows maybe next time. The song of course is “I talk to the trees” and is sung by Clint Eastwood in “Paint your wagon”.
> 
> Ali (too-cerebral on tumblr) made this wonderful fanart piece https://too-cerebral.tumblr.com/post/637286806430367744/inspired-by-seadem-on-fic-a-song-of-myself


End file.
